The Ghost of December
by Sandylee007
Summary: December 6th isn't a happy day for William Brandt. In the aftermath of a rough mission the memories take over. Ethan does his best to help.


A/N: I've been thinking about this for a very, VERY long time. And here it is, at last. My first (and possibly not the last) 'Mission Impossible' fic. (BEAMS) BUT, before getting to the actual business..

DISCLAIMER: Are you freaking kidding me?! There's NO WAY the money on my bank account would be enough to hire Jeremy Renner and Tom Cruise. (whimpers) So, I totally own NOTHING. But a girl can dream, right…?

WARNINGS: Some language, mental anguish… You know, for my fic that list is INCREDIBLY short…!

Okay, because I'm pretty nervous right now… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride, and that I did the lovely characters justice.

* * *

 ** _The Ghost of December_**

* * *

The mission was all kinds of nasty. They were bruised, exhausted and irritated. The fact that they wouldn't get to go home yet was like an additional insult. A nasty snowstorm decided to pick up just as they were about to depart and the long flight they were supposed to take was not an option. Which meant that they were stranded to an isolated cabin in the middle of nowhere, after already having spent too long together. Their moods weren't lifted by the fact that now that they finally would've had the chance to, they were too tense and wired up to sleep.

Well, most of them, anyway.

Benji, whose eyes had gone glazed over and bloodshot from lack of sleep, glared with open envy. "Does anyone else feel like poking him? Or something? You know, to wake him up", he babbled, slurring a bit from exhaustion. He then wrinkled his nose, thinking again. "Or nah, forget it. He'd break my arm. Or something. Spy reflexes, you know?" He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. "I wish I could sleep. How long can a person go without sleep?"

If Jane found his rambling annoying she did a good job at hiding it. She rolled her shoulders and turned her head from one side to another, the room's little light flickering on a set of fast forming bruises. "We're going to have to wake him up soon, anyway, for the concussion check." She shook her head. "I don't understand how he sleeps in that position, especially with his injuries."

Unaware of the attention, William Brandt slept on. His forehead wrinkled as he curled up just a little tighter on the armchair he'd slumped into a couple of hours earlier. The man had pulled his legs to his chest and twisted his whole body into a position many yoga instructors would've envied. How was his spine not in knots?

The rest wasn't peaceful, now that Benji paid closer attention. There was a deep frown on Will's face and it was easy to see how the man's eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids. The agent was incredibly pale, which made the magnificent bruises stand out, and trembled although the room was pleasantly warm. A sheen of cold sweat lingered on the man's forehead. Was he feverish?

That thought made some of Benji's envy transform into worry. Just a little of it. Gathering all his courage he forced himself up and began to approach. "Brandt? Now would be a really good time to wake up. Because otherwise I'll have to wake you up, and we both know that you wouldn't like it."

Will gave no trace of stirring. If anything the man seemed to drift deeper, withdrew more into himself physically and emotionally. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

Just then Ethan walked in, pocketing his phone while entering. A suspicious frown appeared to the agent's face as he took in the situation. "What… are you doing?"

"Concussion check", Benji grumbled. Trying to determine how good of an idea walking any closer was, when Will began to mumble in his sleep. The words made him blink twice, slowly. "That's… not English."

Ethan's expression darkened. "No. It isn't." When Benji moved the agent shook his head. "Don't."

Benji obeyed gladly, standing stiffly and awkwardly where he was. Ethan, on the other hand, made his way to Will. Tense and prepared.

"What's he saying?" Benji inquired, needing to say or do something, anything.

Ethan ignored him while Will's muttering grew louder. "Brandt?" The agent's voice was firm and commanding, but it didn't quite have the desired effect. "Will, wake up."

And all of a sudden, without any warning, Will did just that, startling all three anxious friends watching.

For an endlessly long minute Will gasped, his eyes darting around wildly as the man attempted to anchor himself to the present. Then gulped, appearing embarrassed upon facing the reality. "I, ah… Sorry, about that…"

"Are you okay?" Benji could tell that his eyes were still wide and his heart thundered. Startled by whatever the heck he just witnessed. "Because that… That was pretty intense." True, he had his own nightmares. (Thank you very much, IMF…) But he'd never, ever faced anything like _this_. And Will didn't look okay.

Will closed up like a clam, visibly. "Yeah, Benji. Just… I need a moment." Without wasting another second the man was up, marching out of the room. "I'm checking what the storm looks like. I can't wait to get out of here." And the conversation was over.

The three remaining team members stared at the direction to which their friend disappeared. Benji and Jane then looked towards Ethan, who still had a thoughtful, uncharacteristically openly worried look on his face. "What was that about?" Jane demanded. Transforming worry to something else with the skill of a true agent, because while the IMF prepared its agents for a lot it didn't prepare them for caring about others. Especially fellow agents who could – highly likely, even – die on any mission.

With similar ease and experience Ethan's own troubled emotions faded from sight. "We'll be stuck here for a while. Get some sleep. I'll check on the weather, too."

* * *

Ethan gave Will twenty minutes before entering the room where the other had disappeared off to. The window was open despite the horrible weather outside, letting snow in. Will didn't seem to notice as the man sat with a stone hard, unseeing gaze fixed on the room's window. A glass of, without a doubt, strong alcohol sat on the table but Will didn't seem to have any intention of touching it. If the man's fists weren't so tightly balled his hands would've most likely been unsteady.

From Will's file Ethan knew that the man lived in a city close to this small town for almost two years as a child. Will's father worked there as a diplomat and the boy nailed perfect degrees at school until he didn't, from six months before the family moved to France. Will was very good at adapting and it didn't surprise Ethan that his friend learned the language before that departure. But the nightmare he witnessed… The words muttered…

This wasn't a place of pleasant memories.

"A headache?" Ethan asked. Because he knew that his friend would never respond honestly to anything more direct. Sometimes Will could be even more closed up than he was in his own way. Keeping secrets was what Will did for a living, after all.

Tonight, though, Will was too exhausted and surprised him. The man sighed and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "Look… Sometimes there are better days. Sometimes worse." The agent's eyes narrowed at whatever memory took over, and the unsteadiness worsened. "Today… Today's one of the worst."

Ethan understood, better than he would've liked, and felt his stomach clench with worry and sorrow he didn't know how to express. He had his own… anniversaries. And obviously this location wasn't doing Will's mental state any favors. "The storm's already quieting down", he pointed out. Trying to offer his friend whatever little help he could. "We'll head home in the morning."

Will nodded, not really relaxing, and the look in the man's eyes became something even more alarming.

Ethan sat down, claiming the second one of the room's two chairs. He didn't touch the alcohol although the bottle was right there, open and inviting. There were times when after missions they sat in a silence and drank more than they should've. But not on nights like this. Not when they'd both consumed strong pain medication and Will had a concussion. Especially not with… Well, whatever it was plaguing his friend.

Will commented nothing. Possibly didn't even notice his presence. The man scratched his right wrist through the black fabric covering it, a frown of something beyond discomfort furrowing his brows.

And then the clock struck midnight.

Will emitted a gasp, as though remembering how to breathe again. The troubled expression didn't fade away entirely but eased. Like an invisible weigh had been lifted. "I hate December 6th", Will murmured, eyelids drooping heavily.

Ethan stared out the window, also finding it a little easier to breathe. It took several moments before he found his voice. "How about that, it's not snowing anymore. The evac team should be here soon."

Will remained quiet. Feeling a jolt of concern, Ethan looked towards his friend to discover that Will was fast asleep, soundly this time. As though having been waiting for the day to change before giving himself the permission to rest.

Ethan decided to give his friend two more hours, maybe three, before another concussion check. For now he'd keep watch. And he knew, with the instincts of a seasoned agent, that right outside the room's door Benji and Jane were keeping watch as well. Making sure with him that whatever ghost from the past it was haunting Will had been vanquished, at least for now. All four of them waited for a new dawn.

* * *

End.

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A/N: Awww! They take care of each other. Poor Benji, worrying about Will and Ethan is a fulltime job! And poor, poor Will! Whatever it was haunting him had to be horrible. (shudders)

Soooo… That was my first 'MI' outing. Was it any good, at all? Deletion material? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd LOVE to hear your opinion.

In any case, thank you SO MUCH for reading! And who knows. Maybe I'll see you again.

Take care!


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